


Just us

by OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing



Series: two court jesters + 1 king [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Bruce Wayne, Hurt/Comfort, M for mildly dark scenes, M/M, Minor Violence, No Incest, Suicidal Thoughts, Tumblr Prompt, but like really mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 09:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing/pseuds/OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing
Summary: In which three messed up boys rule the city that messed them upChapter 1 - In which Jeremiah and Jerome Valeska do think alike, sometimesChapter 2 - In which Jerome Valeska explores his other career optionsChapter 3 - In which Jeremiah Valeska draws boundariesChapter 4 - In which Jeremiah Valeska is a spoiled baby brotherChapter 5 - In which Bruce Wayne contemplates breakfast food





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jirrijirri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jirrijirri/gifts).



> I had fun with this!! And I'm loving this whole prompt thing!!! So yes pls send more!

_He’s amazing_ , he thinks.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he…,” he hears, said low and reverently. And it makes his blood boil to hear _that voice_ , so similar to his own, speak with such familiarity, _such fondness_ , about something that belongs to him, _and to him solely_. It makes him want to turn around and shoot his brother _dearest_ between his mad, mad eyes but he won’t, _he can’t._ As that would mean he would have to turn away. Would have to look away from the picture of absolute power, _of absolute madness_ , both one in the same really in this city, that stands before him, in the form of a nineteen-year-old, his dark clothes blending in with the even darker city, mouth and fists dripping with the blood of those who dared to question the boy, the man, _the King._ Their King. Jeremiah’s King. Even Jerome’s King. _Gotham’s King._

He turns towards them. Something graceful and dangerous in the swirl of his coat around him, _something regal_ , as he regards them, the wild, almost animal like, intensity about him replaced by the more familiar stoic façade he likes to portray. The madness not gone, but hidden for now.

He walks past them, shoulders brushing against theirs, just the slightest bit taller than them both now. Grown so much in just a year. Jeremiah feels a rush of pride wash over him.

“We’re done here. Let’s go home.”

Jerome giggles as he is wont to do. Jeremiah is barely able to hold in his own, as they flank their _Boy_ , their beautiful _Dark Knight_ , their _Mad King._  
  
_He really is amazing, they think._

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jerome Valeska clucks his tongue and inhales deeply, taking in that rich, beautiful smell of copper, that pretty little liquid that keeps them all alive.  
  
Its scent is made all the more enticing due to its source.

Its source which is currently squirming and trying to pull away from his _very careful, very gentle_ ministrations. He clucks again like he imagines a tired, old matron would do and grabs harshly at the flailing arm, digging his nails into the wound, a shallow graze really, where a bullet flew a little too close to comfort.

His patient growls. Feral and beautiful, with teeth bared.

Jerome tries to ignore the tingle the sight sends through him. “ _Now, now_ ,” he sing-songs, “is that _anyway_ to treat someone who is trying to take care of you?”

“It’s a scratch,” growls Bruce, for once sounding like the teenager he actually is, “I can fix it on my own. Your idea of healthcare is stapling your face back on.”

Jerome huffs, offended, “It’s not like I _wanted_ to get my face stolen in the first place.”

“Look,” continues Bruce, ignoring Jerome, which _rude_ , “I’m fine. I can go back out there, finish them –”

“ _NOPE._ Nah hah! Not doing that! You’re going to sit here and let Nurse Jerome _nurse_ you back to health and let his _less pretty, less charming_ baby brother take care of all the bad, bad people out there”

As if on cue they here the _shriek_ , angry and ravenous for blood, loud enough to be heard through the gunfire, and screams of those less fortunate enough to not get a bullet between their eyes, “ _He’s mine._ ”

“ _After all_ ,” hisses Jerome, leaning down to lick a spot of blood off Bruce’s ear “ _you’re mine._ ”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremiah Valeska knew that when it came down to it Bruce Wayne was _his_ , before he was Gotham’s and, more importantly, before he was _Jerome Valeska’s._

Yes, Jerome may have found Bruce, stumbled upon the poor billionaire orphan by accident, but it was Jeremiah who _found_ Bruce. Looked at that poor billionaire orphan and saw _so much more._

Saw a darkness that he had only ever seen within himself.

Saw a madness just begging to be released.

Saw anger at the world. Anger that could be used to make it a world all for them.

_Just for them._

Bruce Wayne and Jeremiah Valeska.

Because Jerome Valeska looked at Bruce Wayne and saw a toy to be broken and discarded. A special toy, for sure, something to be treasured, but eventually put aside for the latest, greatest model. But Jeremiah Valeska looked at Bruce Wayne and saw _potential._ Saw a great King to whom he could dedicate his life to. Saw someone he would kill for, _would die for._

Jeremiah Valeska looked at Bruce Wayne and saw someone who _completed him_ , so purely, so simply that he _knew_ , in the end, Bruce Wayne was _his._

Knew, in the end, it would be them.

No Gotham.

No Jerome Valeska.

_Just them._

 


	4. Chapter 4

Jerome’s _sweet_ little, _perfect_ little baby brother had never liked to share. Had always been a _greedy little_ thing. And in the fifteen years they had spent apart that was something that had not changed.

It was clear to see, even if Jeremiah liked to point out that Jerome wasn’t all that smart, _he is_ , what Jeremiah was doing. _Taking Bruce away from him._

Like he had taken their mother. Like he had taken the circus. _Like he had taken Jerome’s life._

The thought, _the sight_ , of it made Jerome want to scream. Made him want to laugh. Made him want to cry. Made him want to tear at his own hair and then at Jeremiah’s. Made him want to scream at how unfair it was that, now that he was _bigger, stronger, smarter_ , Jeremiah was still able to take away the things he cared about, _the one thing he cared about._ The one person who had always tried to help him no matter how much he hurt them in return.

_And that hurt._

Hurt so much he wanted to wrap his hands around Jeremiah’s scrawny little neck and _squeeze_ till Jeremiah’s face, _his face_ , turned purple. Till the last bit of life _fluttered_ away from Jeremiah’s eyes, _his eyes._

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because at the end of the day Jeremiah would always be his _sweet_ little, _perfect_ little, _greedy little_ baby brother.

Because at the end of the day Jerome was smarter than Jeremiah _ever_ gave him credit for, and he knew, _he knew_ , that ending Jeremiah would be as good as ending _Bruce._


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce isn’t all that sure how he got here.

Oh, he knows how he got _here_ ; to this life, where, just short of reaching twenty, he ruled a city and it’s many criminal inhabitants.

No, he knew how he got here.

What he didn’t know was how he got _here_ ; sandwiched on a ratty old couch, that smelled like stale popcorn, between psychotic mass murdering twins, one crazier than the other, while they argued over whether waffles or pancakes were better, while SpongeBob played on the tv.

“I like both,” Bruce finally cut in, nonchalantly.

That shut them both up, mercifully, as two pairs of green, green, _poison green_ eyes stared at him. Their faces blank.

Bruce shrugged. “They’re both great,” he continued, eyes stuck on the tv. “They’re different. But also, similar. They both have something about them that makes them unique. Sometimes you want one, sometimes the other. It depends on the situation, I guess. What kind of day you’re having. What you’re feeling up to. But in the end, I’d rather not have to choose between them. They’re both amazing in their own ways, and I’d rather not imagine living in a world without one or the other. Like I said, I love them both. Pancakes and waffles, that is.”

It takes a second, maybe two, before he feels them settle against him, on either side. Jerome smells distinctly of gasoline and ash, while Jeremiah smells, just as strongly, of chemicals and blood.

It’s nice.

This is nice.

The Dark Knight and his two deranged princes.

Gotham’s Mad King and his just as mad court jesters.

Bruce Wayne and his two missing parts.

_Just them._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I'd love to hear feedback from y'all! Comments itself are greatly loved!!!!!! Also send me prompts and check out my other work if you want??? 
> 
> <3 <3 <3


End file.
